


Atone

by pervelot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, Not Really Character Death, One Shot, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 12:13:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12681660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pervelot/pseuds/pervelot
Summary: A one shot of what truly happened dunning the battle of Hogwarts, featuring sad boys and dead boys.





	Atone

It started off as grief.   
A sweet decadence of despair drenched in sticky saddened syrup. Draco stood stalk still among his peers. It seemed that they were all staring at him, blame on their tongues. It was more than a thought, but the reality was they all were waiting to see how he'd react. To see if he'd crumble and fall, burst out in rage or up and disappear. This wasn't the case, oh no, he was not one to conform to others thoughts of him. No this was no longer grief, this was regret in all it’s glory. Draco looked down in silent rage never batting an eye at the chorus of evil cries. Identical to the slide show played at the end of his time, every memory of Potter flashed before his eyes. Every violent infraction, every wishful glance, every moment up until this one. When Voldemort called out those foul words.

“Harry Potter is dead.”

He had said it with such glee and sweetness it almost gave Draco cavities. Luna Lovegood had turned deathly pale but her eyes hardened and lips tightened, looking at Draco like a call to arms. The bright light that had rested in those pale blues had dimmed to nothing but war. This is what they all were. Surrounded by their loved ones. Some would try to sugar coat the tragedies, say these people expired like how old milk does at muggle grocery stores. Not today. Today they would use words correctly, call people by their names and truthfully say that people died. Children died, parents died, teacher's died, both sides suffered. This day was the definition of suffering. All his regret had not completely subsided only now accompanied by blissful rage. Here he was looking a the limp corpse of a boy he never got a chance to love. A person he fought with constantly but only out of pressure from his father. A father who let this happen. Let this cruel man come back and even stood by him. A father who was no father to Draco but a father of war. Slowly as the silent bleed to new awkwardness, Lucius stepped forward. 

“Draco, come.”

Never had he heard something so pleading yet one-sided. Draco didn’t move a muscle. Only when his mother held out her hand, did he bow his head. But for some reason though every nerve in his body lurched towards going with them and wallowing in self-pity, he didn't move. A marble statue of resilience. His peers held back most of the emotions this evoked. Some surprised and proud and some wishing he’d gone to the other side. Voldemort simply laughed. 

“Maybe the apple does fall far from the tree, all the way to its doom.” 

He kept his head down, only looking up to stare directly into Draco's fearful eyes. He lifted up his wand slowly, The killing curse wet on his snake like lips. Chapped and almost bleeding. But before a morsel of the incantation was spoken, Saint Potter did it again. He rolled out of Hagrid's arms clumsily onto the cobble stone. In seconds war was being sung in the wind again. Harry ducked out-of-the-way of Death Eaters and friends, swooped under curses and, sparked with wandless magic being called forth. Now all of Draco's emotions were fried and apparently his brain was too, because he was now skating around all the warm death between him and Potter at a rapid pace. Full blow determination and glee with a destination on Potter. He doesn't have a wand he doesn't have a wand, he could die, he doesn't have a wand. Draco's thoughts circled as his eyes scanned for the messy haired savior of the world. Behind a column hidden in shadows is where he found him. He seemed to be trying to use as much wandless magic as he could you put up protection wards around his companions and peers. 

A curse was centimeters from Mcgonagall's nose before it shimmered into pink and purple sparks. Harry though he should have been powerless, and dead, he was still Gryffindor to the core. Slouching, bleeding, crippled and resurrected, yet still all he thought about was saving those he loved. Draco compared this to what he was doing but the sacrifices could never amount the his. But that wasn't Draco's goal. He was doing this for himself, not some selfish suicide mission in search for public acceptance. He was doing this because of Potter not for Potter. Draco was Slytherin through and through. He could think of a life hed wish to live where the world mourned Harry Potter. They were opposites. Two sides of the same coin. Child soldiers in a war started before their time. Draco needed Harry, even if it wasn't reciprocated. He need to atone for what all he's done to him, or it would eat him alive. The closer Draco got to him the gentler his footsteps got, and the roar of war behind him blurred to a buzz. He grabbed Harry's hand, placing his own wand into Potter palm softly. He pulled Harry to him just close enough for him to whisper in the others ear. Still holding Potter’s fist closed around his wand he told him. 

“Forgive me” 

Draco was gone seconds after, apparating to who knows where. He left Harry with a twinkle in his peaceful yet sad grey eyes, and his wand imprinted into Harry’s fist.


End file.
